


find me where the skies are blue

by ichabodcranemills



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Communication Failure, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, I took some liberties with the Kasaavin power range, Late Night Conversations, Mild Blood, Oh No We're Stranded Together And Must Confront Our Feelings, Other, Teamwork, Whump, but it could be canon if you really feel like it, feral!Thirteen, the Master is terrible at flirting, they're terrible at it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25979596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ichabodcranemills/pseuds/ichabodcranemills
Summary: For reasons she can't figure out, the Doctor finds herself stranded on an island with her oldest friend and best enemy. If they can work together, perhaps they can find a way out of this one. "If" being the key word here. But, it's how they say, the only way out of hell is through.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42
Collections: Thoschei Prompt Exchange 2020





	find me where the skies are blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fluffysfics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/gifts).



> The story is set somewhere between Spyfall pt. 2 and the Ascension of the Cybermen. The prompt for this one was: "Call me 'love' one more time. I dare you." and "Stranded On An Island"

The Doctor wakes up feeling the warmth of the sun on her face. That’s funny, she’s pretty sure she was inside the TARDIS when she went to sleep. Actually, she doesn’t recall having gone to sleep. But, to be honest, it’s not like she’s been sleeping a lot these days.

She opens her eyes tentatively before squeezing them shut again. The sky is blue. Too blue. The kind of sky you don’t see in Gallifrey. Or in England. Where was the last place she’d been too, again?

She definitely should stop going to Gallifrey, it would drive her mad. But if she went to Gallifrey just one more time she might understand and it was so easy just to turn a lever and if she could just see, then she'd- Anyway. The blue sky.

The Doctor sniffs the air around her. Earth, definitely. Somewhere near the equator. No smells of human activity, if she could trust her nose, which she usually could. There’s a low sound of waves crashing nearby. She wiggles her fingers and touches coarse sand. An island, probably.

When had she decided to travel to an island?

“What are you doing here?”

That voice. Oh, no, she had gone mad.

“This is not what is supposed to have happened. Why are _you_ here?”

He’s a hallucination and she shouldn’t talk to hallucinations. That just encourages them to take hold of one’s mind.

“Doctor?” he asks, closer to her than before “Are you alive?” 

The Master nudges her leg with his foot. It feels pretty real. She sits down and forces herself to look at the purple disaster standing in front of her.

“ _What have you done?_ ” she asks through gritted teeth.

“Nothing!” he answers, putting his hands up. A perfect picture of fake innocence “I mean, nothing that should have affected you, anyway.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not! I was tinkering in the Kasaavin realm, looking for a way out. Suddenly I’m here. And so are you.”

“Where’s here?”

“Southern hemisphere, Pacific Ocean, can’t pinpoint the exact location though.”

She grunts and presses her palms against her eyes. 

“What sort of mess have you made now?”

“Oh, just one that wouldn’t require being done if you hadn’t _shipped me off to an evil dimension_!”

“Oh, that’s my fault now?” the nerve of him “How about _don’t align yourself with evil interdimensional beings_?”

It’s a good thing they are on a desert island. She wouldn’t like to get caught shouting at the Master like that. He looks at her, face contorted in anger, both of their chests heaving, until the Master shakes his head and looks away from her.

“Whatever. You shouldn’t be here anyway. This was my dimension traveling, not yours.”

“Well, you clearly messed that up.”

“Brilliant, gold star for the Doctor, now can you get up? We need to find a way out of here.” He offers her a hand up but she bats it away. 

“I’ll find a way out myself. You can choke on the sand.”

“Aren't you a touch too sensitive, Doctor?”

She spins on her heels and grabs the Master by his lapels.

“Sensitive? I’ve been to Gallifrey. I’ve seen your hologram. I still can feel-”

“Feel what?” he interrupts her with a gleam in his eyes and a feral smile twisting his lips “The anger? The terror of seeing the smoldering ruins of your home? The hate for knowing I was the one to do it this time, and not you?”

The Doctor wants to punch him, push him, get into a fistfight with him, and see him hurt. But there are tears in his eyes, and seeing that doesn’t help at all. She lets him go and the Master staggers in place, laughing. She is angry. But what she still feels is the smell of burnt metal in her nose, her eyes still watering with the smoke. And an emptiness. No more home to go back to. Again.

“Why did you do it?”

He laughs again.

“I said I’m not gonna make it easy for you, love.”

The Doctor stumps away from the Master just for want of something to do. But she should probably investigate the island anyway. He follows her, though from far enough that she couldn’t tell him to piss off. 

The island they’re in is quite small and is just a bit over an hour before they walked the entire circumference of it. The Master shed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and unbuttoned his vest. It’s weird seeing him so casually dropping his clothes off. As if they're just strolling through the beach. As if they're friends. There's a weird familiarity to it, one they don't share anymore.

He notices the Doctor staring and smiles as he does so.

“Seen anything you like?” he asks. She rolls her eyes. Of course the Master would misinterpret a simple gaze. 

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t be prudish, love. I quite like you without the coat as well.”

She's taken her coat off as well and it currently rests on her arm. The Doctor resists the urge to just throw it back on her shoulders again. It's too hot for it but she hates that he is looking at her now. That they're looking at each other.

“That's not why I'm looking.”

"Whatever you say.” He says, shrugging his shoulders, and smiles like he won the debate. The Doctor didn’t know they were having one, but he certainly hasn't won. Her cheeks warm up when he smiles. She hates it.

“Definitely no sign of civilization," she says, looking around, desperate for a change of subject “I doubt any human has even set foot on this island for at least three hundred years. How come we ended up here?”

The Master kneels and rubs a bit of sand between his fingers. He takes one finger to his mouth and tastes it.

“Probably a random choice of a place we couldn't escape easily. Or just a place we would hate.” the Doctor can't help but agree. The sweat that runs down her back is definitely hateful.

“But why? Why move us at all? And not just, I don't know, trap you further in their realm?”

“Because they like to mock us. It amuses them, you’ve heard it.”

“They said that when you were pretending to be on my side. Didn't you feed them that line?”

“Oh no, they truly like to mock us. They find it hilarious seeing humans bothered.”

“Neither of us is human, though.” she points.

The Master stops fiddling with the sand and looks away from her.

“We're similar enough to them as far as the Kassavin care.”

His voice comes out strained and angry and he is still looking away. The Doctor frowns. Of course that would be what annoys him the most. That he was compared to humans, not that they're trapped. She would call him out on it, but there are more pressing matters. 

“So how do we leave? Can't you access them again?”

“It's not like they let me keep the tools for it.”

“Eh, that's why you shouldn't backstab your allies.”

“I thought I shouldn't have aligned with them in the first place.”

“I don't trust you to be that clever.”

He turns to look at her and his face does something funny. Like he's about to laugh - good-natured banter, another thing they don't have the familiarity for anymore - but then all the joy is drained from it and he is upset again, every emotion written plainly and painfully in his pretty eyes.

“Of course you don't.”

He stands up and walks away from her, kicking sand as he goes.

“What is the matter with you?” she shouts at his retreating figure, but he doesn't answer or looks back at her.

“Well, I clearly shouldn't,” the Doctor mumbles to herself. If he is going to be weird, she's not the one who'll try to understand him. She sits by the shoreline, determined to not speak to him again.

The silence on that island is maddening. The Doctor has already pointed her sonic to every tree and rock she's found, with no effect. She tasted a mouthful of sand as well, but it tells her nothing beyond Pacific Ocean, like the Master had stated already. She really has no business going after him again. They're enemies, aren't they? It's not like they can sit next to one another and chit chat. It's not like she misses that and thinking about it makes the silence even more infuriating. It's not like talking to him will help. 

So of course she goes back to where he is sulking and sits by his side. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence broken only by the waves and the wind, the Master starts talking.

“I was wondering.”

“What?”

“Why are you so prudish? With your collarbones on display like this one would think…”

“Oh, my stars,” she snorts “Collarbones? Who's being prudish now? The Academy's dress code is still that ingrained in you?”

He laughs and shoves her with his shoulder. She laughs back and it's stupid because she hates him and shouldn't laugh with him.

“It's pretty.”

She looks at him with a raised eyebrow. Is he serious? He holds her gaze and smirks. The Master has no business being this charming.

“Shut up.” she looks away from him before her cheeks turn red. 

“Whatever you want, love.”

“That’s enough.” She stands up and he follows her suit, having way too much fun.

“Enough of what?”

“This, ugh. _Love_.”

She regrets her words the minute she utters them. Stupid, stupid, Doctor. He's so full of himself, smiling as if he's got her figured out. She looks at him, her lips tight in anger. He wouldn’t dare, would he?

“Okay...”

She grabs him again - and that’s becoming a habit, isn’t it? - by the lapels.

“Master.”

“... l-”

“Call me 'love' one more time. I dare you.”

His lips are trembling and she can almost read the word in them. It would be so easy to shove him headfirst in the sand and make him eat whatever pet name he is considering to utter. Perhaps he can tell that she's thinking that, or just teasing her is enough to please him.

“Please, let me go, Doctor.”

She does so and an uneasy stillness sets between them. They shouldn't flirt. Flirting is off-limits and it can easily turn into fighting. And while fighting is good (they _are_ enemies), it doesn't really help with their current crisis.

“We should look for stuff that might help us find a way out.”

“Yes, of course.”

It's another few hours of them scavenging the island in search of tools. Or anything, really. They've considered and discarded the idea of setting an SOS signal via bonfire or writing in the sand and now the Doctor is certain that if they make glass, they can create a lense powerful enough to be seen by a plane, so she's spent the better part of an hour sonic-ing the sand.

“This won't work.”

“Yeah, with your nice attitude it certainly won't”

“You're just creating a fire hazard.”

The little glass amalgamation she's managed to assemble has indeed set some wood splinters on fire. But it's probably fine. 

“Do you have a better suggestion?” she says, casually putting down some flames with her boot.

“Yes! I can use theses pieces of net and plastic that washed up on the shore to mimic an Auton diving device and-”

“Your big plan is to use a handful of debris to build a Nestene ship?” she interrupts him, looking at the plastic.

Hearing his plan spoken out loud must've put some sense on his head.

“Fine!” he says, throwing his hands up “I guess we can just spend eternity here, that would be entertaining.”

“Do you have to be so dramatic? I'm sure we can just-”

“Doctor, watch out!”

Whatever she was planning on saying was immediately forgotten as the Master pushes her to the side. She hits the sand sideways and some of it gets to her mouth, but she's mostly unscathed. The same can't be said about him, though.

The Doctor kneels beside her unconscious friend _enemy_ , dreading the blood that's running through his face.

“Oh, don't you dare die saving my life!” she says, very aware of the panic note tinting her voice,

After pushing the Doctor out of the way, he wasn’t actually hit by the falling palm, but a sharp dry frond has opened a gash on his forehead. She gently sets the Master's head in her lap, but there's no regeneration glow coming. His breath is even and the rhythmic four-beat of his pulse is strong. It's probably a minor concussion, so she breathes a little easier before searching her pockets for materials to fix his wound.

She lets out a breath after what it feels like ages when the Master slowly blinks awake.

“You idiot.”

“What happened?” his voice is groggy, but clear enough.

“You were hit on the head by a palm tree.”

He tries to stand but the Doctor plants a strong hand in his chest keeping him laid down.

“I tried to help you,” he mumbles, grumpy.

“Yes, and because of that, I had to bandage you up with whatever I had in my pocket. It’s not pretty.”

He tries to stand up again and is once more stopped by her hand.

“Stop moving” she repeats, firmly “I’ll find a way to get us out of here.”

“Us? You won't leave me stranded, then?”

She blinks. She wouldn't do that. She doesn't want to leave him, although she can see why he would think that. She doesn't like him, she definitely doesn't trust him. But some of the rage has subdued. She would at least leave him in a city, someplace he could get food and shelter.

“I'd appreciate it if you would rest for a while and could help me later, but for now, try not to die.”

The Master gives her a very weak smile. The Doctor hates how much it pleases her, how much it warms her hearts, and makes her want to hold his hand and run her fingers through his hair and tell him he'll be okay. So she mumbles something about supplies and walks away before he has the chance to reply.

When the night falls, the temperature drops quite acutely. It might have to do with the sparse vegetation, but it's more likely that is just because the universe likes messing with the Doctor.

The Master helps her set a fire without talking too much, holding his end of their sort of truce. He shows no further signs of concussion, probably due to his advanced biology acting to heal him faster. So not everything is going against them.

As soon as the fire is burning steadily, they both sit next to it, side by side. The Doctor notices how close their hands are. She could hold his, if she wanted. So she wraps her arms around herself.

“Know any good bonfire songs?” he asks, throwing another branch in the flames.

“Yes, one that's called 'and the Master kept his mouth shut for five goddamn minutes and everyone was happier'.”

“You're so snappy.”

“I have enough reason for it.”

“I can't see why. I'm having a blast.”

She considers punching his arm. But he's injured and she should cut him some slack.

The silence is punctuated by the crackling of the fire, the chirping of the insects and the ever present rumble of the ocean. It's not an easy silence. There are a million things she'd like to tell him. Ask him. But the big ones, the ones that truly matter… the trust between them that would allow for her to say any of them doesn't exist anymore.

“What was your deal with the Kasaavin anyway?”

“Straight to the good part, then? I thought you'd buy me dinner first.” she rolls her eyes, but he continues to speak “I was looking for something in their dimension. Then I understood their plans and they worked well with mine.”

It's an earnest answer and the Doctor hides her shock. She wasn't expecting him to just tell her something meaningful.

“Looking for what?”

He retreats to himself and is fair enough, she did push further than he had allowed her so far.

“But why were they able to move me? When they dropped you here. Were they still following me?”

“You must have been in the same place the moment I got out of their realm.”

“Why would you be in the same place I was? Were _you_ following me?”

“No, but I wanted to go to Gallifrey.”

She wants to punch him. Claw at his face, shove him into the sand. Perhaps she would if she didn't think it would burst his wound open again. How dare he go back to their planet after-

“How did you know I was there?”

“I didn't. I figured, though.”

“ _You_ told me to go there.”

“And I take that you went again and again.”

“Why would you want to go back?” she asks, ignoring what he's just said “It's all gone. All destroyed. Just ruins and smoke. Do you just want to admire your handiwork again?”

“I told you why they moved you. I don't have to explain anything else.”

_That's not true,_ she wants to say, _you can't burn someone's planet and expect them not to care, not to want to understand why._ But she doesn't. This is one of the things she can’t talk to him about anymore.

“Do you think we're free of them now?”

“We can hope. It's as good a guess as any.”

The silence that follows is even more uncomfortable, but better than the alternative.

As the night advances, the fire dwindles and both of them grow too tired to keep feeding it. In theory, neither of the Time Lords needs to sleep every day. But the Doctor hasn’t slept properly in weeks and she doubts the Master has had much time for rest when he was in the Kasaavin realm. They don’t so much lay down as just let their bodies slip to the ground.

"Are you cold?" he asks, a few feet away from her, a purple bundle wrapped in all the layers he'd shed earlier.

"Yes," she answers with no further commentary.

"We could-"

"No."

"Okay. Suit yourself."

The thought of getting closer to him for warmth had crossed her mind, but she ignored it. It's perfectly fine, she can sleep in the cold. She's done it already. Several times. It'll be a piece of cake. 

A few minutes later, her teeth start chattering.

“Ok, this is ridiculous. Come here.”

He wraps one strong arm around her and pulls her closer until her back is laying snugly against his chest. She should protest, but the Doctor doesn’t really want to sleep in the cold, and the Master’s body fits so perfectly next to hers. It shouldn't. He has no business being this comfortable to lay next to, being this warm on such a chilly night. But she's too tired to care.

“I prefer to be the big spoon, actually.” she points out but makes no move to invert their positions.

“Don’t I know, love? But this time I’m the bigger one. This way it’s more logical.”

“You’re not that bigger. You have what? Two inches on me?”

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

“And you shouldn't call me 'love' anymore.”

He laughs and it reverberates through her.

“Okay, love. I'll stop.”

She snuggles closer to him. They're already falling on a soft slumber and that's probably what leads her to ask something she wouldn’t if they were both fully awake.

“Why did you do it?”

“Go to sleep.”

“Just tell me.”

“I had to make them pay."

“What could have they possibly made that would make you so angry?”

The Master bents his head on the Doctor’s neck and shivers. 

“They took something from me.”

“What?”

“You’ll understand when it's time.”

“When will that be?”

“Good night, Doctor.”

She doesn't know how to answer that. What to say. So she just lays in silence, listening to his steady breath and soon succumbs to sleep.

The Doctor awakes to a morning that is much too bright for her liking. 

For a moment, she wants to lie absolutely still. If she doesn't move, maybe she won't have to face reality. But the blindingly blue sky changes things. No more snuggling to fend off the cold, no more late-night sleep-induced meaningful questions.

The Doctor peels herself away from the Master's sleeping form. She looks at him. His long eyelashes and thick hair. His face frowning even in his sleep. Nightmares, of course. She's quite used to those. She's tempted to smooth the lines with her fingers, to comfort him. But it's daytime. And they're not friends anymore. So she nudges his leg with one foot, just like he did the day before.

“Wake up.”

He awakes slowly and blinks at the clear sky before looking to the Doctor.

“Good morning, dear.”

“I've got an idea.” 

He stands up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and she explains her plan. It’s not so different from the tool she built when she first met the Fam and the TARDIS struggled to stabilize itself in Desolation. This time, the ship was probably safely parked either on Gallifrey or Earth, so it should be simpler. The Master listens intently with one hand scratching his beard.

“It’s not anything stupid that will leave us stranded in outer space, is it?” he asks once she's done.

“... No.”

It’s evident he wants to protest but blissfully he doesn’t say anything. 

“What do you need?”

“Empty your pockets.”

They scavenge the island one more time and gather a surprising amount of material from their combined pockets - bigger on the inside clothing are a lifesaver.

“The other time I had a microwave, some parts of a Stenza ship, actual electricity, and a few yards of cables, but what we have here should do.”

“A Stenza ship? When did you-”

“Not important, come on, I'm sure we can extract electricity out of these coconuts.”

They worked without talking for most of the time - except for passing out instructions and the three times the Master had to keep the Doctor from nibbling on the coconuts that would provide their energy - but it was a good arrangement. They always worked well together, even if they hadn't done so in a long time. And if every time their fingers brushed when passing tools or material, the Doctor was tempted to hold his hand, she doesn't let it throw the work off rhythm.

_Why do we have to be such a good team?_ the Doctor wonders _When nothing else between us is good anymore?_

The sun is setting when they finalize their tracker-transporter. It looks good.

“It looks like it will definitely leave us stranded in space.”

“If so, it was nice knowing you.”

The Master is the one to roll his eyes for once.

“Activate it already.”

“Deep breath.”

They stand side by side and the Master looks at her before taking a breath. His hand is laying so close to hers. _Oh, why the hell not._ She holds it and interlaces their fingers. There are smiles somewhere and the edge of warm hope in her heart. But she doesn't dare to look at it. The Doctor points her sonic and turns the apparatus on.

The TARDIS enters the vortex as soon as both Time Lords materialize inside her. The Doctor laughs in triumph.

“Result!”

The Master joins her in her celebratory haze, his smile open and earnest for once. He holds her hand for another minute before softly shaking it free.

“Our friendship." he says, looking at the floor.

“What?” the Doctor asks, still too happy to try to make sense of what he said.

“That’s what they took away. The Time Lords. Gallifrey. Amongst other things.”

The Doctor is not so much angry as she is in shock. _You’re wrong,_ she thinks of telling him. _You took away our friendship. I did._ But that's not really what she wants to say. What she wants to say is: _but you're still my friend. You'll always be my friend._

“You'll understand. In time.”

Only then she realizes how close to the doors the Master is. He opens them in one fell swoop and steps away into the vortex.

“Master, don't!”

The Doctor tries to grab him but he's gone before she can reach him. He's not dead, the Doctor is certain that the Master would never willingly jump to his death, so he must have some way of traveling safely through the vortex. But he's left her. In distress, with no means to find him and still unable to understand.

Just like she did to him centuries ago, she supposes.

* * *

It's been three months since she escaped the Judoon prison. Life has been quieter lately. Fewer adventures with the Fam. A bit more stillness and reflection. On the first days of her freedom, the Doctor ran. She ran and ran and ran, faster than she'd done in almost all of her lifetimes - the ones she can remember, that is - but running for didn't help at all. In fact, it made things worse. So the Doctor allowed herself to stand still. She allowed her companions to understand her better. She was even honest to them about what happened in Gallifrey, with the Master. She told them who he was and he meant for her. As much as one could really explain their friendship - and everything else - to a human.

One day, when Ryan is tinkering with the TARDIS - the ship has allowed him to do so, and seems to enjoy it more than when the Doctor does it - he grabs a small brown ball and shows it to the Doctor.

“What's this?”

The Doctor looks at the thing on Ryan's hand and she doesn't know what she feels about it. She wants to cry. She wants to laugh. She wants to go back to the island and hold his hand once more.

“It's an electricity conducting coconut.”

After she drops the Fam back in Sheffield, she holds the coconut in her hands. He had assembled this one, she can tell. There's still a faint whisper of his psychic impression on it. Other things are flooding her memory too. His smile as he was recovering from his wounds, his voice, low and somber, next to her ear as they lay by the fire. The touch of his hand against hers. Her fingers tingle when thinking of that.

And the brush of his mind in her brain, so broken, back in Gallifrey. Yet so alive. The Doctor holds the coconut tighter, focuses on the impression he left on it. She can almost feel the sun and hear the ocean.

_Contact_

He doesn't answer, but she can feel him connecting. The Master would never willingly jump to his death. She almost laughs at the thought, despite her pain.

He is impatiently tapping on her brain. The meaning is clear, even if he doesn't speak. _What do you want?_

“They didn’t, you know?”

She can feel him, feel the state he's in. The questioning in his mind. A sad _“what?”_

“Take away our friendship. They couldn't do that.”

She's taken aback by a violent flood of emotions. The Master almost shuts her out and lets the anger win. But there is a hesitation and that's what she holds on to.

“Whatever else that happened, it doesn't matter. I still believe we will see the stars together one day.”

The Doctor waits with held breath for her best enemy, her oldest friend to say something, but he doesn’t answer, even if the silence that follows isn't quite silent. It's perhaps the best she can hope for, she thinks, about to sever the connection, when his voice reaches her mind. It's preceded by a smile, a smile that is shy and small and uncertain, but warm and bright enough to make her think about an impossible blue sky.

“Good night, Doctor.”

  
  



End file.
